


a hand for the holding

by addandsubtract



Series: spirit we [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub, Future Fic, Multi, Non-Graphic Violence, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 12:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addandsubtract/pseuds/addandsubtract
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“C’mon, Isaac,” she says. “Just do this for me, okay? You can do it for me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	a hand for the holding

**Author's Note:**

> for the prompt _isaac is a sub (but not a masochist)_ , set sometime after _easily you climb inside_ , though it doesn't much matter.
> 
> again, feel free to point out any typos if you spot 'em!

There’s dried blood underneath Isaac’s fingernails, smears of it up both of his forearms, and speckles sprayed across the white of his t-shirt. He’s bone tired the way he gets after nights like these, and Allison keeps one hand on the small of his back, underneath his shirt. She’s scratching lightly with her fingernails, reminding him that he’s not alone, that she’s there, even though Scott is ahead them, opening the front door of the house.

She’d almost gotten bitten tonight. Isaac killed the wolf who did it, gutted her with his claws and watched the life drain from her eyes, and he doesn’t even regret it. He doesn’t mind that he doesn’t. He has so few things that he can call his, fewer that he can say he _belongs_ to, and he is willing to do whatever necessary to protect that.

Allison knows. She understands. Her fingertips are callused against his skin, and he just wants to curl up on their bed and sleep.

“C’mon, Isaac,” she says. “Just do this for me, okay? You can do it for me.”

He can. He’d do anything for them.

 

They push him into the bathroom together, but it’s Scott that gets him out of his clothes and into the shower. Allison sits on the closed toilet, and they leave the curtain open, even though the water sprays all over the floor. Allison took her shoes off at the door, and Isaac looks at her bare feet, the vulnerable arch of them. She is the strongest of the three of them, without a doubt, but it is also impossible to forget that she’s the most easily killed.

“Isaac,” Scott says, and puts both hands on Isaac’s chest, slides them up to the curve of his shoulders. There’s blood washing down the drain in pink trickles, and Scott’s mouth is wet and warm when he kisses Isaac.

Isaac sighs into it, lets Scott push him back until he’s pressed against the tile, because right now he wants what they want. He thinks about how long it took Allison to calm him down, just after, the way she grabbed his chin and stared into his eyes, completely ignoring that he could kill her, entirely trusting that he wouldn’t, and it was maybe that, more than her authority, that brought him back.

“I’m sorry,” he says now, because he can, finally. He’s here, with them, at home. Scott’s hands are on his skin, Scott’s mouth on the side of his neck. “I didn’t mean to – I lost control, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t hurt anyone,” Scott says, careful to meet Isaac’s eyes, and he’s not lying. Isaac would be able to hear it.

“I could have,” Isaac says. 

“I wouldn’t let you,” Allison says. Her voice is too quiet, quieter than a human would be able to hear over the pounding water, but, of course, neither Isaac nor Scott are human. “You’re ours, Isaac, and we won’t let you hurt anyone.”

Isaac looks at Scott, and then at Allison, and wonders, again, how he could have gotten this lucky. How it’s possible that they could love him in exactly that way he needed.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, and when Scott reaches for the shampoo, Isaac lets him wash his hair.

 

In the bedroom, after, Isaac is on his back, still damp from the water, the sheets sticking to his skin. Scott fucks into him slow and deep, one hand splayed across Isaac’s hip, the other on the inside of his thigh. His thumb keeps rubbing over Isaac’s skin, and Isaac feels like he might vibrate right out of his body. Allison slides up over him, knees on either side of his head, and he’s eager to please, licking up into her, pushing his tongue inside her. He brings his hands up to help, but she pushes them away, and over his head, wrapping her fingers around his wrists. His strength is more than enough to allow him to pull away, but he doesn’t. He listens to what she wants.

She grinds down onto him, and he does his best to please her. She gasps above him, says, “Good, you’re so good,” and he can feel the pleasure build in his lungs, where it’s hard to breathe with how much he wants to make them happy.

Scott is picking up speed, and Isaac wants Scott’s hands everywhere on him, he wants Scott’s mouth on him, he wants anything he can get.

He must be making some kind of noise, because Allison laughs, and shushes him, and strokes her fingers over the sides of his face, the corners of his mouth where he’s messy from how wet she is.

She comes first, the satisfaction in that soaring up through him. He can feel her clench around his tongue and he moans with it. Scott comes soon after, hips stuttering, pressing his face against Allison’s back, and then he’s sliding up, licking across Isaac’s cheeks and chin and into his mouth, kissing sloppy and sated.

“We take care of you,” Scott says, quietly, and Isaac shudders. He’s still hard, rutting up against Scott’s stomach. Allison is sitting by his head now, tugging at his hair, holding onto his wrists with one hand, and smiling down at him.

“C’mon, Isaac,” she says. There is nowhere else he would rather be.

 

He doesn’t have class until 1:00, gen ed English requirement, but Allison’s schedule starts at 9:30, so he’s up early enough to watch her grab a piece of toast and a mug of coffee. She kisses him on the forehead before she goes, her smile somewhere between fond and proud.

He brings a mug of coffee back to bed, and reads his homework until Scott wakes up.

“You’re okay now, right?” Scott asks, because he’s the one that asks. Isaac puts his book down.

“I’m fine,” he says, and holds still while Scott looks at him. Finally, Scott kisses him on the mouth, and then slides out of bed.

Isaac joins him in the shower, lets Scott push him to his knees and cradle the back of his head, holding Isaac close while he fucks his mouth. Isaac comes before Scott does, the evidence washing down the drain. He feels loved, and perfectly held.

 

Later, when he gets home, he pulls off his shirt, folds it neatly on top of his pants and pads, barefoot, back into the living room, where he can curl up in front of the couch with his chin on Allison’s thigh and listen to the TV hum. Allison puts her hand on the back of his neck, slides her fingers up into his hair. He sighs and goes boneless.

Somehow she always knows exactly what he needs.

Her fingers rub over the knobs of his spine where she can reach, and she says, “Scott will be home in fifteen minutes with dinner,” because she knows he’ll want to hear it.

“Thank you,” he says, and it could be a reply, and it could be about everything they do for him, but mostly it’s both.

She hums softly, pushes her thumb against the nape of his neck, and says, “You’re welcome."


End file.
